


Sentiment

by Lord_Orange



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Angst, Courtship, Fluff, M/M, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-09
Updated: 2013-05-25
Packaged: 2017-12-10 22:18:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/790816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lord_Orange/pseuds/Lord_Orange
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone has a hobby, even consulting criminals, highly functional sociopath and the British empire. More or less for John's benefit, those hobbies are all somehow related to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ahoi everyone,  
> this plotbunny hit me a while ago and wouldn't leave...  
> So, this planned one-shot got a little out of hand and I decided to split it in 3 chapters.  
> For this chapter I recommend the following songs:  
> \- Little big town - Tornado  
> \- The Outcast - Roses  
> \- Metric - Speed the Collapse   
> I hope you enjoy it ^^

A light breeze blew across the Thames. The sun had not risen yet and there was dew on the lush green strips along the river. Not far from the river bank were some old factory buildings that had been rebuilt to modern apartments a few years ago. And despite the early morning hour was a light already burning on the top floor.

As usual he had spent the night working. However, after 56 hours of straight work, even James Moriarty was willing, to give his restless mind a break. So he had left his desk at 2 o’clock in the morning and drove back to his flat. By 2:30 he knew what he wanted to do and since 2:35 he was working on it. 

Now he ran his hand over the nearly finished handcrafted chair. He inhaled the smell of freshly processed wood and relished the taste. Not that he would ever consider to mainly work with his hands, but these occasional handicraft excesses were like a refreshing fountain and after each finished piece he felt strengthened and refreshed. 

Moriarty absently pulled a screw clamp tighter that the glue couldn’t do independently in his drying process. Joinery was admittedly a rather strange hobby for someone like him. But it gave him a fascinating contrast in his life. Almost all the furniture in his apartment was made by himself, which was why he had insisted, that his workshop would be in a separated part of his flat as well. 

He stretched his tensed muscles and stiffled a yawn. Since his youth he had hardly used more than 4 hours of sleep per night, and now in his 30s he could stand even longer without sleep. In any case, a ruined shirt and another sleepless night was in his opinion much better than to numb his constantly screaming mind with drugs. 

A wicked smile crept onto his face. As such, it was no wonder that he could set out those little games he played with Sherlock so easily. Not that he would never have wanted his brain would be quiet for a few minutes in his weaker moments. It wasn’t easy to be constantly showered with information, but he preferred it that way. Nevertheless, to sink in a monotonous manual labour was more pleasant than a loss of control due to drug abuse. 

With his mind set on a cup of coffee and a cigarette, Moriarty left his workshop and grabbed the remote on his way to the kitchen. He stopped shortly and switched the telly to life. He flipped aimlessly through the channels, only to stop with mild shock. His own face jumped on him. No, not quite his.

It was Richards….Richie…Richard Brooks face. Every now and then when he switched the telly on in the morning there was some incredibly annoying twist of fate which managed him to stop at this fatuitous children’s TV show. He hated it how eagerly Richard jumped around the set and how foolish it made him look. 

Involuntarily he had the urge need to hurl the remote through the glass of the flat screen. What use had a twin brother if was not like him in any way, despite their same looks? Richard was as imbecilic as everyone else and James felt that it was a cruel cosmic joke, that someone who looked just like him, could be so different from him. It should have been him and Richie against the world, but now it was more like a constant trying not to kill his own brother. Stupid superstition. He considered it bad luck, if he’d order to kill someone, who looked just like him.

James admitted to himself long time ago, that he didn’t feel any love for his twin. Richard was a constant reminder of a past he’d rather forget. And every time he saw that imbecile on the telly he had the urge feeling that he soon had to go and save that stupid ape. 

He felt how familiar white flames of anger began licking at his stomach and how the first sparks hit around the edges of his eyes and made his sight blurry. The anger started to work it up, but after he had half raised his hands to a throwing movement, he shook his head heavily. It wouldn’t be the first telly he would destroy and it would certainly not be the last, but today he didn’t feel like animating Sebastian to flit through London to get him a new telly. 

Moriarty dropped his hand and muttered mean imprecations. He flipped further and stopped at a soap from the 80s and switched the TV to mute. Not that he would have the least interest in the program, but the flickering of the telly was a welcome distraction for his peripheral vision.

For a short moment his face twisted into a grimace of disgust, before he completely pushed the thought of his brother aside. He ran his left hand through his hair before he paced through the spacious living room. He definitely needed a coffee now.

In the bordering open kitchen first sunrays fell on the silver espresso machine and bathed the scene in peaceful light. The dark-haired man patted the chrome steel affectionately and filled freshly ground beans from the coffee grinder into the filter.

While the machine was bubbling merrily, he leaned against the work surface, wondering with what kind of leather he should dress the upholstery of the chair. Whilst he was lost in thought the machine finished working with a gentle buzz.

With the coffee cup in one hand, Jim fumbled a cigarette out of the pack and then went to the adjoining balcony. While he closed the door behind him, he pushed the cigarette in his mouth. He freed a lighter from his pockets and brought it up near the cigarette. After he had lit the fag, he took a deep greedy pull at it and blew the blue smoke out through his nose. 

Leaning against the wall, he let his gaze wander over the near riverbank before he closed his eyes and drew on his cigarette again. It actually was hard to keep up a good smoking behaviour upright in London. Instead of playing war, the Iceman should have taken better care of this law against smokers. 

The taste of strong coffee spread across his tongue and gave a nice combination with the cigarette smoke. Taking another sip from his cup he relished its taste a little longer.   
After he had largely completed his nightly project, his mind was already working on the more acute problems and tasks of the freshly started day. 

\-------------------------------------------------

When Moriarty returned to his apartment at the evening of the same day, he was very tempted to just drop into bed. Instead, he carefully folded his jacket and dropped it on a dining room chair. While he found his way back to the kitchen to make himself another coffee, he loosened his tie and rolled up his shirt sleeves. He wanted to completely finish the chair tonight, before he went to bed. 

The empty coffee cup was put in the sink. He turned to face his workshop, which was separated by a glass wall from the rest of the flat. On his way he passed the table again and grabbed the bag, he had brought home with him. When Moriarty opened the glass door the familiar scent of wood and glue hit him. He quickly stepped in and closed the door behind him – after all, it would be fatal if the wood dust should distribute in the home of a smoker. 

Before him stood the chair which he had worked on the previous night. Jim carefully checked the strength of the glue before he loosened the screw clamps. The wood had hardly contorted and everything still fitted perfectly into its frame.

Out of the bag he pulled the upholstery which he had bought that morning. The old and used leather was beautiful and was a perfect match to the colour of the wood.   
When he had attached the upholstery, he stepped back and scanned his work. It wasn’t spectacular but not ordinary either. It looked a bit like a Stickley Chair and the old brown leather made it simply perfect. 

Amused, he pulled up the corner of his moth, which rather resembled a grimace than a smile. It was amazing how much better his work was when it was actually meant for someone, not only a mere distraction. 

He fumbled out his phone and typed away some messages. Tomorrow he wanted the chair placed at its new destination and therefore he needed someone who would do the legwork. 

With a soft ‘thud’ the door closed behind him and he made his way to the bed for a good night’s sleep. This night he felt asleep in an instant and no troubling thought nor nightmare troubled his sleep. 

\-------------------------------  
He wanted to pat himself on the back, to congratulating himself over his choice of informants and designed feints. When he entered the apartment together with two of his drudges it was silent and deserted. 

A few instructions later his chair had replaced the old one, standing on the spott. The old chair was unceremoniously taken away by his drudges. With a surly gesture, Moriarty chased the two outside, but didn’t take a leave himself. He sat down on the couch, crossed his legs and waited. 

He hadn’t to wait long. Soon he heard a key being turned downstairs and heavy steps climbing the stairs. After a blink he faced the door and smiled at the one who opened it.  
John was packed with two bags full of groceries and had obviously not expected anyone to be in the flat. He nearly jumped with surprise, a strangled cry forcing its way out and he dropped the bags instantly. As a reflex he reached behind his back, in hope to find his Sig Sauer, but he already knew at the same moment, that the gun was in one of his desk drawers. 

“Dear Johnny-boy…no one in the right mind would take his gun to shopping”, James, greeted him with a wicked smile.  
“What the hell do you want?” the slightly shocked doctor asked and pressed his back on the wall.   
“Oh, nothing special, just stopping by, saying Hello, bringing a gift. Trying if normal stuff works out for me, you know?” James told him, still grinning. 

John startled, slightly taken aback. “A gift? Why’d you bring a gift? Is it another one of your ‘treasure-hunts’ for Sherlock?” the doctor asked angrily. “It’s not for Sherlock, Johnny-boy, this time, it’s something Daddy wants YOU to have”, James told him in his sing-song voice. While he was speaking John scanned the flat for any obvious threat. As he couldn’t find anything dangerous his eyes felt on the foreign chair. “For the love of god, why did you bring me a chair?” he asked surprised and shoot a suspicious look at the consulting criminal. 

With his head tilted to the side, James watched the doctor closely. “You are afraid of me”, James mused mildly surprised. John gave a short humourless laugh. “Well, yeah, you strapped me to semtex, everyone in the right mind would be! What did you expect? That I’d offer you a cuppa?” His eyes darted back and forth between the chair and the consulting criminal.

James cocked his head and hummed in understanding. “It wonders me none the less, due to the fact, that I was very sure about the fact, that you’d been addicted to danger, aren’t you, Johnny-boy?”  
John winced imperceptibly and drew a snide grimace. “And what are you addicted to?” John retorted. “Ah, well, that’s the point, isn’t it?” James told him with a grin. 

Shaking his head in disbelief, John fixed his gaze once more on the consulting criminal. “Why on earth did you bring a chair?” The dark haired man looked at him and smiled. “You’ve been living with Sherlock for quite a while now, why don’t you try and ‘deduce’ it? It’s not bugged or anything, if you had that in mind…that would have been to clumsy, but test it, if you must!”

John crossed his arms in front of his chest. “I really don’t want to play your games!” he told the man in a voice that he hoped would sound confident. While standing up, James said: “Well, maybe I found your lack of interest in interior design disturbing, or I deemed it appropriate to give you a comfy chair due to the fact, that Sherlock makes you running through the whole town on my account. Or I just want to make sure you have a nice spot to sit on, while you update your blog and sip your tea!” With that he gave John a small smile, while he pushed past him out of the door. “Just think about it!”  
“I’d rather not think about it, or about your motivations” John stated. “But John, thinking about me is part of the deal” James finished and waved a good-bye before he closed the door to 221b.


	2. Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahoi,  
> translation took me longer than expected. Hope you enjoy it.  
> Unbeta-ed  
> Music:  
> \- Clueso – Dort wo du wohnst  
> \- Hooverphonic – Mad about you  
> \- Bitter:Sweet – Dirty Laundry  
> \- Hooverphonic – Vinegar and Salt

After James had left, John stayed a while leaning his back against the wall and played the conversation over again in his head. He started to wonder if he should call Mycroft or Lestrade and asked himself if he should be worried about hidden explosives. At the end of his considerations, the need for a strong cup of tea won. He gathered up his purchases and stashed them in the kitchen (whereat he tried to ignore the fresh body parts in the fridge as good as possible).

He had barely made himself comfortable with his second cup on the couch (from where he had a good view on the chair), the door opened and Sherlock stormed into the apartment in his typical manner.   
Without greeting the doctor, he darted over to the kitchen and John only heard the light hum of the opened refrigerator and Sherlock’s diligent tamper with the former mentioned body parts.

Before he could settle back into his tea and newspaper Sherlock asked from the kitchen: “Why do we have a new chair?” John sighed and hesitated for a moment before he answered. “The older no longer appealed to me and I think there was a loose elastic spring". Sherlock hummed as a sign of understanding and that was the end of that discussion.

As much as he would have liked to continue reading the paper, John began to wonder why he had lied to his best friend. He was annoyed that he started to spend more thoughts on James Moriarty, than usual. After a long pondering he still had no idea why he had concealed the true background of the new piece of furniture, so he decided to go to bed early.

He could still hear Sherlock working on his experiments, while he climbed the stairs. John placed his mobile on the nightstand beside his bed, grabbed a towel and disappeared into the bath.

                                ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Shortly after 3 o’clock early in the morning, his mobile rang. Awoken by the noise John sleepily fumbled after the little trouble-maker and read the received text.

_3:03 Figured it out already? – JM_

_3:05 Oh God, do you know what time it is?  
        How did you get this number??? – JW_

_3:05 Honestly? – JM_

_3:06 No…just tell what do you want?  
        And tell me how you got into the flat! – JW_

_3:07 I know a guy… ;-)  
         Did you figure it out? – JM_

_3:09 If I tell you, will you let me be and stop writing me at such ungodly hours? – JW_

_3:09 Maybe – JM_

_3:11 You wanted to leave a sign, a trophy of some kind, showing that you can do what you want – JW_

_3:12 Wrong! Try to remember that it was actually a gift for YOU – JM_

_3:13 Hopefully you don’t blow anything up now…but you know, that’s actually kinda creepy – JW_

_3:16 Don’t worry, I had worse ;-)  
        Keep on guessing, that’s actually funny – JM_

_3:20 Yeah, it’s lovely to see me struggling…  
         It’s probably just a spare chair you had in your flat and didn’t like anymore? – JW_

_3:21 It’s indeed lovely to see you struggling, but you’re wrong again about the chair… - JM_

_3:25 Bloody Hell, do you really just want me to be comfortable??? – JW_

_3:25 Attaboy! – JM_

_3:27 ….will you let me be now? – JW_

_3:28 For now, Johnny-Boy. Nighty night! Xxx JM_

_\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
_

When John woke up the next morning, he did not really want to go to the clinic. A few days ago a flu epidemic broke out and apart from the actual sick people a bunch of hypochondriacs besieged the hospital. John groaned, he really didn’t feel like coping with hypochondriacs today. But in the end his sense of duty drove him out of bed.

As he stepped under the shower he heard muffled and atonal violin sounds. John ignored it as best as he could and adjusted the temperature.   
He enjoyed the sensation of the hot water against his skin, a luxury after such a strange night. He probably enjoyed it a little bit too much.

With a sigh John grabbed his shower gel and spread it on his body. A cold shower was out of the question this morning, so he gave in to the inevitable.

John reached down between his legs, taking his semi-hard cock in his hand and gave it a few exploratory strokes. A soft moan escaped his lips and he closed his eyes, giving in to the pleasure. This had to be quick, he didn’t want to be late for work, nor did he want to miss his first cuppa of the day.

The doctor had his forehead pressed against the tile wall, with one hand he fisted his cock, the other played with his nipples. There wasn’t time for teasing, so he increased the speed of his strokes. His climax was imminent.

But then somewhere between his thoughts about busty women and the pleasure he gave himself, a picture of Jim flashed by his inner eye.

John’s eyes snapped open _What the hell was that?_ He shook his head, stopped for a moment. But he could already feel a tight knot in his belly and the lesser part of him begged him to finish. 

As he continued with his activities, his subconscious presented him unusual impressions. _Strong and calloused hands that gently brushed along his back, wet lips pressed to his neck._ He shook his head again … _No, oh God No!_ But it was already to late, he came in his hands, thinking of James Moriarty.

A moment later he got out of the shower and felt terribly irritated. The doctor grabbed his towel and begun to dry himself. He tried his best to ignore the experience of earlier and forced his thoughts in a different direction.

He quickly dressed and left the bathroom. As he stepped into the living room a moment later, Sherlock still scratched absently on his violin. But John didn’t mind him and went straight into the kitchen.

While he put on the kettle and made two cups ready, he called a late ‘Good morning’ towards the living room. But as expected, it was unrequited.

Happy about the fact that he went shopping yesterday, he prepared a small breakfast and sipped his tea between test tubes and petri dishes. With the last bite of toast, he stood up and reached for his jacked while walking towards the door. With his mouth full, he waved Sherlock goodbye and closed the door behind him. _  
_

                                                    ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Although John had spent the morning mostly in the OR, every time he had walked through a corridor at least one resident had him paged and annoyed him with silly questions. So his mood was quite lousy.

Shortly after lunch he stopped at a deserted nurse station in order to do his paperwork. About 5 minutes later he was interrupted again by a familiar voice.

“Have a rough day, hu?” James Moriarty asked while he leaned casually on one of the desks. Jumping with surprise John made a thick line through his folder. He snorted angrily as he saw, that he definitely had to redo the page.

The consulting criminal was dressed in scrubs and a lab coat like John himself and showed him a wicked smile. “All those sick people really spoil the mood, don’t they?” Jim asked and wrote something in one of John’s folders.

“What are you doing here?” John asked back and took the folder away. While he scanned it he ran his fingers through his hair in disbelief. “Did you just prescribe someone tic tacs?”  
“Sure why not? I bet it has a placebo-effect as well!” Jim answered with a chuckle.

Meanwhile John wondered how he could get out of this situation. He had no desire to play Moriarty’s games, he only wanted to end his shift and go home. Lost in his thoughts, he missed what Moriarty said next. “…with me?”

“Pardon?” John looked up again. “I asked, if you would like to go out with me!” James repeated.   
“You..What?” the doctor asked in shock. “Oh come on, Johnny, It’ll be fun. Go out with me!”  
“But I’m not gay!” John said, for what felt like the thousandth time.

James simply smiled. “We both know, that that is a lie. Don’t make me ‘deduce’ why it’s a lie. Just go out with me!” Ignoring that comment, John continued. “Going out with you would definitely count under ‘fraternizing with the enemy’! And even if I’d consider it – which I’m not – it would be terribly wrong!”

“Well, if it’s just that whole nemesis stuff, you can go and tell the Holmes-boys! Funny as it is, I’m quite sure, they wouldn’t believe it. But John, if you are honest, you don’t consider telling them…if you would, you’d already told one of them about the chair…”

John flinched barely noticeably _How could he possibly knew…_ Anger started to build up inside him.

“Why do you want to go out with me? Is this about the whole ‘I’m gonna burn your heart out’ issue?” John asked angered. James cocked an eyebrow. “Hm, that’ finally an intelligent question, I think, I start to see what our little Virgin sees in you – “

“Don’t call Sherlock like that!”  
“Fine, I won’t – if you go out with me! And if it soothes you, it has nothing to do with Sherlock and our game. That would be something between you and me!” He said with a wink.   
“Oh great then, what will it be? Some mob boss meeting, where you chop everyone’s heads off, or just an ordinary coffee with red laser points all over my body?” the doctor shoot back sarcastically.

“Actually I was thinking about something like dinner, but if you are fond of that kind of stuff, I have a thing scheduled for tomorrow at 4…”  
“NO, no, God no!...You’re serious, aren’t you?”  
  
“Of course I’m serious” James replied as he pushed of the table at the nurse’s station. “And what if I refuse?” John asked, suddenly aware that he wasn’t dealing with an ordinary man.   
  
James mocked a horrified grimace before he put on his usual smile. “Then you’ll miss out on a great opportunity”. John began to wonder what kind of opportunity that was supposed to when James asked with emphasis “So, how about dinner tonight at 8? My treat!”

“Just dinner, no funny business? No strapping to semtex, cross-dressing, or anything bloody and sinister?”  
“Just old-fashioned dinner…unless you’d like to join me in high heels and a fancy dress. I’d call you Lady Dickhurtz for the whole evening, if you’d insist!” He showed John that wicked smile again.

Shocked by the idea, John quickly replied “Just dinner sounds good!”  
“Great – I’ll pick you up tonight at 8 then!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it!  
> Taa~


	3. Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, hope you enjoy it ^^  
> Music suggestion:  
> \- Feist - My Moon, My Man  
> \- Florence and the Machine - Over the Love  
> \- Diana Krall - Temptation  
> \- Beyonce - Back to Black

The date with James was surprisingly pleasant and without any strange incidents. At 8 o’clock a black Bentley had stopped in front of 221B and for a moment John feared that it would be Mycroft. But when he opened the door, he was greeted by James’ trademark grin who invited him into the car with a “Good evening, Johnny-Boy!”

The ride didn’t take long, but every time the car stopped, John was tempted to tear the door open and run. Whether James noticed his nervousness or not, he didn’t show. He mainly typed on his mobile in silence.

Shortly before the Bentley came to a final halt the consulting criminal, much to John’s surprise, switched his phone off and put it in the inside pocket of his jacket.

James who had noticed John’s gaze, smiled his smile and said “Everything’s settled, the world will not end unless I tell it to. Let’s have a nice evening, shall we?”

Now they were sitting in a small restaurant, enjoyed excellent food and after a quick glance at his wristwatch, John noted, that they already spent two hours chatting. The consulting criminal was an amazing conversationalist and showed a totally different side of himself.

“So, what about movies?” James asked. “What kind do you like?”  
John smiled in amusement. “Can’t you read that from my left foot little toe, or something?”  
“Well not from your toes, to be precise, but I’d prefer it, if you told me. It kills the conversation, if I’d deduce everything.”

“I bet, you don’t watch movies, do you?”  
“To predictable….”  
“Yeah, well, I’m fond of the James Bond movies. Wanna know, what I like best?” He didn’t wait for James to answer and continued. “I love the part, when the villain tells the hero their whole plan. Every little detail of it….Oh and of course when they turn their chairs and pet a cat…” the doctor finished and sipped on his glass.

James chuckled. “I guess you’re right. It wouldn’t suit the audience, if the bad guy just shot the hero…to much realism, I presume.” He locked his gaze with John’s and smiled. “I hate to disappoint you, but I’m allergic to cats and I assume it wouldn’t be very impressive, if I’d pet a hamster”

John had to laugh at that last comment and tried to picture James in a chair petting a hamster. He suddenly realised, that he felt nothing from his initial nervousness and somehow that thought terrified him. In the meantime James had started telling him an anecdote about contemporary literature and John waited politely until the other man had finished it.

“So why am I here?” he asked.  
“All business now, are we, John?”  
“I really wanna know and I don’t understand the whole situation!” John answered honestly.  
James gave him a small smile, free of scorn and derision.

“If I’d knew it for sure, I’d tell you. But to be honest, I don’t know what this is exactly myself.” He paused and took a sip of wine.

All of a sudden John felt the nervousness again and started shifting in his seat before he asked “You actually made the chair by yourself, didn’t you?”  
Still smiling, James answered “Everyone needs a hobby, don’t you think?”

\---------------------------------

Some more glasses of red wine later, both of them stood in front of the door to James’ flat. He wasn’t quite sure, how he had managed it, to convince the doctor, that it would be a great idea to enter the apartment of a criminal mastermind. But here they were.

In the moment when James unlocked the door to his apartment, he didn’t care what would happen after this night, as long as he could keep John at least until the early morning hours.

He stepped into the hallway and turned on the light, then took a step aside to let John in.

While he hung his coat James turned slightly to John “I’ll get the wine, I bet you get along by yourself” Then he hurried to the kitchen. After a short see-saw he settled on an older Merlot.

In the meantime, John had hung his jacked as well and ventured into the living room. He tried to supress his astonishment, but he was unmistakably fascinated by the whole flat. He absently stroked the back of the couch as his eyes got stuck on one of the paintings on the wall.

Curious, the doctor took a few steps closer and looked at it in detail. He turned his head a little and caught James how he admired John’s backside, while he poured wine into two glasses.

“And here I was thinking, you’d despise art…that’s _The_ _Astronomer_ by Veermeer, isn’t it?” John asked and pointed vaguely at the picture. James simply nodded and John looked at the painting again. He scanned it carefully and followed the cracks in the long dried paint with his eyes. Suddenly it hit him.

“Oh Lord, please tell me, that’s not the original!” John groaned with a mixture of shock and fascination.  
James showed him his little smile again. “I felt, it would go to waste at a museum…and Canova’s _Cupid and Psyche_ would have been a bit of a show-off…”  
“A museum…James,…that picture belongs to the Louvre! I don’t wanna know how you got it!”

“I know a guy” James simply stated before he looped one arm around John’s waist and offered him a glass of wine.

To his own surprise John leaned back into the embrace and sipped at the wine. It was heavy and had a rich flavour, but the sensation of Jim’s hand was far more urgent.

The mixture of alcohol and adrenalin, the smell of James’ perfume and a faint scent of wood, everything hit at once and left him overwhelmed.

James lips touched his ear “Do we need to talk?” He asked surprisingly soft. John breathed a “No” and turned in James arms. The consulting criminal leant down and pressed his lips on John’s.

Both groaned in unison due to the sensation. Every nerve fibre felt like it was on fire and John gave in. He didn’t want to think or to run. He didn’t know why, but he wanted this, needed _this_.

The kissing grew more passionate as they made their way to the bed. They left a trail of clothing behind them, lips never parting.

Every touch, every sensation felt new and familiar at the same time. Thinking stopped long moments before, no regrets, just savouring the moment.

As soon as the men hit the bed, they became lost in each other. Lips against lips, soft fingertips trailing every muscle, every bare centimetre of skin. John gasped as James mouthed hungrily down his throat, stopping to nip at his collarbone. The clever fingers never stopped touching everything they could reach and left a burning sensation on John’s skin.

The testing and teasing continued for what felt like ages and later on John could only remember the overwhelming sensation as James slipped inside of him and the immense pleasure that had followed. Their fingers intertwined the whole time and their hoarse moans had filled the night.

Afterwards they just laid there, James absently stroked one hand through John’s short blond hair.  
“I have to admit, I haven’t thought this whole thing through…” James finally said.  
“Neither have I…so I guess, it’ll be quite awkward in the morning.”  
After a short pause James answered “It doesn’t have to be…”  
“Well then, I should leave…” John suggested.

James suddenly held him closer. “Don’t… go. It won’t be awkward, I promise. I hardly talk at all in the morning” he smiled. John gave him a lazy kiss. “No mocking…”  
“No mocking!” the taller man agreed. John snugged closer. “So we’ll find out, what this is?” he asked with a little more hope in his voice than he liked.  
James simply nodded and kissed him again before the doctor slowly drifted into a good night’s sleep. The consulting criminal stayed awake and listened to John’s regular breathing.

Just lying there, holding a sleeping John felt oddly right to James. It made him calm and satisfied him in a way that hadn’t anything to do with claiming or victory. But as always his mind couldn’t stop working, processing, wasn’t willing to savour the moment.

In the dark of the night, he felt wrong and out of place. Like his time with John was a break from his usual reality. As he watched the blond man sleep he felt at peace but wanted to run at the same time. James rested his head against the headboard of the bed. He really needed to think this through.

\----------------------------------------------------

As promised in the night before, there was no unnecessary talking and no awkward silence in the morning. It nearly felt _normal_ waking up together.

James had spent half of the night thinking but there were still too many loose ends. So he behaved as civil as possible and watched John attentively while he occasionally sipped on his coffee.

During breakfast, John glanced at the painting again nearly every 10 seconds. Noticing the odd behaviour, James shook his head and took another sip from his coffee.  
“What’s your favourite piece of art then?” He asked and sounded truly interested. John jumped a bit and chewed on his lips, embarrassed that he had been caught staring.

James cocked his head, still waiting for an answer. “”Well, I think that would be _Starry night_ by Van Gogh.” John told him. To James surprise he then leaned forward and stole a kiss from the consulting criminal.

\---------------------------------

A few days later James still wasn’t sure about the whole situation. He hadn’t seen John since that night, but they had exchanged many text messages and phone calls. James would have never admitted it, but he was overextended, thus he decided to do what he did best.

So when John returned home from work later that week he found a rectangular package waiting for him on the handmade chair. As he opened it, he nearly dropped its content. He quickly sat down on his chair and removed the rest of the wrapping.

The brilliant blue colours pleased his eyes. “Oh Lord, this can’t be true” he muttered. He scanned the painting more carefully – still hoping that it would rather be a very successful reproduction- as he noticed a little note, neatly tucked in the frame.

_I know a guy :-) Hope you like it! – Love J._


	4. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music:  
> \- Jack White - Love is Blindness  
> \- Lana Del Rey - Young and Beautiful

In retrospect, it was a miracle that Sherlock had never noticed or mentioned the whole thing. Maybe it was because he was not interested in John’s love affairs, or maybe because James was a worthy opponent and was able to cover up everything.

In any case, John had never had to justify. And it had been the most stunning and at the same time most terrible time of John’s life. He had been caught between two fronts, struggling with his morals and his loyalty. Just trying to meet the requirements of two completely different worlds.

Thinking back, he wasn’t sure whether it was actually the danger and the desire to break out of an ordinary life, which made him do it. But he was sure, that he had loved James. And to this day, he regretted that he had never told him.

A part of him closed from the bitter reality and enjoyed the artificial surrealism. He didn’t want to know what James did on his daily work. And even though John had never really tried to change Jim, he imagined that he had somehow effected the other man.

Often when he sat in the chair, which James had made for him, he remembered a special night, one of their last nights together. They had fought – for the first time and without any real reason.

Suddenly they were both dropped from their self-imposed world and found themselves confronted with the cold reality. John remembered how angry he had been and how alarming calm James had remained.

_“…And why don’t you just kill him, if he’s such a threat to you? You tease him and toy with him, put everyone in danger and kill innocent people, just to keep the two of you entertained…that’s mayhem…that’s insane!” John screamed at the consulting criminal._

_“I don’t want to kill him.” Jim stated, who had remained seated on the couch from which John had jumped mere minutes ago. “What would I do without him? I’d have to go back to teasing Mycroft and screw up his politics, or shipping weaponry to third world countries….No, NO, that’s BORING!” James told him in his singsong voice. He looked up and locked his gaze with John’s. “No, John, Sherlock completes me!” he finished._

_John ruffled his hair angrily and tried to process the given information.  
“But you kill for money!” the doctor stated with agony. The consulting criminal cracked a smile. _

_“Oh Johnny, please, if you’re good at something, never do it for free!”_  
“You destroy lives just for the fun of it, just to get out of your boredom, for your damn amusement!”  
“Well, yes, that’s what I do, that’s what I’m good at. And don’t exclude yourself form this. You aren’t ordinary, you’re not one of them” he paused and reached out for John. 

_“You wanna know a secret, Johnny-Boy? To them, Sherlock is just a freak like me…Scotland Yard and all that poor souls need him right now, but what happens, if they suddenly don’t need him anymore? They cast him out like a leper. Cruel, isn’t it? You see, their morals – nothing but a bad joke. Dropped at the first sign of trouble. They’re just as good, as the world allows them to be. Those civilized people, they’ll eat each other. See, I’m not a freak or a monster. I’m just ahead of them!”_

_Driven by anger and despair John clutched his fists into James’ collar and pulled him down into a harsh kiss. “God, I hate you!....I really, wanna hate you! How could I let you into my head?” he groaned, as he continued kissing James._

_James parted after a while of aggressive kisses to catch his breath. John still watched him with fury in his eyes._

_Following a sudden impulse James grabbed him gently by the elbow and pulled him towards the elevator. “Come with me, I wanna show you something” he whispered before he called the lift. As they entered the cabin, James pressed the top-floor button and avoided John’s gaze._

_As soon as they reached the roof, John couldn’t hold it any longer. He turned and faced James who had stopped right behind him. “Just tell me, damn it! Why? Why me? I don’t get it!” he screamed at the consulting criminal. An almost melancholic smile crept onto Moriarty’s face. “Sentiment” he finally answered and looked John straight in the eye._

_And there on the roof, for nothing more than a brief moment, John had the feeling he could see past all the layers of the other man’s mask. No Jim from IT, no consulting criminal, no Moriarty, just James. His James. The man he came to know in the past months.  
The wind tore at their clothes and dishevelled John’s hair._

_James cleared his throat and spread his arms in an all-encompassing gesture. “Look at it John. Look at all the lights. Behind every window sits a man, a family. Plain ordinary, boring and just living their lives. So dull, so unimportant, as if they don’t want anything else from life, than just life.” He paused for a second._

_“I can’t give you that. Normality, that is. It’s not satisfying, it’s not enough, just living, nothing more, nothing less. No excitement, no chase. Just starting everyday with you. Simply existing isn’t my purpose, and as far as I can tell, neither is yours.”_

_They stood a few step apart from each other, but John could feel the heat that radiated from James. He felt a slight chill creeping up his back, but wasn’t sure if it was because of the cold night, or James’ words._

_James turned and walked towards the balustrade of the roof. He placed his hands on it and continued. “I can create, and destroy. I can bring mayhem and chaos. I need something that keeps me running! I need distraction. Being goooood is just a poor lie and a rather boring one! Everyone tries to control their little worlds, but if you turn their plans on itself, they freak out. Upset the established order, everything becomes chaos. And chaos, chaos is just fair. It restores the natural equality of opportunity again. And suddenly life isn’t boring anymore.”_

_John approached next to him, but did not dare to touch him. James turned his head to face him and gave him his special little smile. “You should know by now, that there is nothing, that I wouldn’t give you, John. You can assume that I’d hand you the world on a silver platter, if you’d only wished to have it. I can hardly deny you anything at all…but I know, that’s not what you want. But John, there is one thing I can actually do for you.” He paused again from is monologue._

_John looked up to him to meet warm and honest eyes. James was still smiling at him. “What”, John breathed, “What can you do for me?” he asked, unsure if he really wanted an honest answer. With a small sigh James pulled John in an embrace and held him tight for a brief moment. He leaned down and whispered in John’s ear._

_John felt the buzzing all over his body, as James touched him. The electrical feeling, as James’ lips brushed past the sensitive skin of his ear. He leaned into the embrace and shuddered at the words, James told him. No other words were necessary._

_**“I’ll die for you”** _

 

~Fin~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's that.  
> I hope you all enjoyed reading it!  
> Taa ~  
> ^0^

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I hope you enjoyed it!  
> If anyone would like to beta the following chapters - that'd be great!  
> Taa~


End file.
